"Repent, Harlequin!" Said the Ticktockman - Harlan Ellison
The story takes place in the year 2389—in a world where we have all become slaves to time, ever fearful of being late. In this future world, being late is "more than a minor inconvenience"—it is a crime. And this crime comes with a hefty penalty. The punishment for not being on time is to have a proportionate amount of time revoked from one's life. Thus if you are ten minutes late you lose ten minutes of your life. If you are the sort of person who is habitually tardy, you could find yourself receiving a communiqué from the Master Timekeeper (the Ticktockman of the title) informing you that your time has run out and you will be "turned off."
Into this world of sheep where everyone is afraid to step out of line there is, however, a non-conformist. His name is Everett C. Marm, but the Ticktockman doesn't know that. The Ticktockman only knows him by reputation as the Harlequin. The Harlequin is a practical jokester, a jester with auburn hair, a sort of cross between Abbie Hoffman and Jim Carrey.
The Harlequin orchestrates practical jokes like dumping one hundred and fifty thousand dollars worth of jelly beans onto the slidewalks (remember: the story takes place in the future where sidewalks have been replaced by slidewalks) causing everyone to laugh and break ranks, but also causing everyone to be late.
The Harlequin is a merry prankster, a hero to some and an outlaw to others—a personality—"something they had filtered out of the system many decades before."
He is also a real thorn in the side of the establishment (here represented by the Ticktockman, because Ellison knows it's much easier to draw a fable if you have clearly defined good guys and bad guys).
Like in 1984, the Ticktockman—who hides behind a mask—eventually captures and crushes the Harlequin. But you can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs, as the saying goes. And victories are often small and hard-fought. And if you make even a slight change, well, that's more than most of us ever achieve.
This story, then, will make you smile at the end. It's not a downer like 1984, but (like that book) it will give you pause.
It is also beautifully written. I love the way that Ellison breaks the rules with wonderful run-on sentences. And the way that he punctuates those sentences often with quick, short, two-word follow-up sentences that are like staccato bursts.
I also love the way Ellison uses the jelly beans simply for the powerful image they convey. The fact that they raise some logical questions—such as where in the world would the Harlequin get so many jelly beans—is brushed aside with the following:
"That's another good question. More than likely it will never be answered to your complete satisfaction. But then, how many questions are?"
And I love the lengthy quote from Henry David Thoreau's "Civil Disobedience" which precedes the story. "That is the heart of it," Ellison writes. "Now begin in the middle, and later learn the beginning; the end will take care of itself."
It's pretty obvious that Ellison, himself, is probably a tardy fellow. It should come as no surprise, then, that Harlan and Harlequin sound a lot alike.
Into this world of sheep where everyone is afraid to step out of line there is, however, a non-conformist. His name is Everett C. Marm, but the Ticktockman doesn't know that. The Ticktockman only knows him by reputation as the Harlequin. The Harlequin is a practical jokester, a jester with auburn hair, a sort of cross between Abbie Hoffman and Jim Carrey.
The Harlequin orchestrates practical jokes like dumping one hundred and fifty thousand dollars worth of jelly beans onto the slidewalks (remember: the story takes place in the future where sidewalks have been replaced by slidewalks) causing everyone to laugh and break ranks, but also causing everyone to be late.
The Harlequin is a merry prankster, a hero to some and an outlaw to others—a personality—"something they had filtered out of the system many decades before."
He is also a real thorn in the side of the establishment (here represented by the Ticktockman, because Ellison knows it's much easier to draw a fable if you have clearly defined good guys and bad guys).
Like in 1984, the Ticktockman—who hides behind a mask—eventually captures and crushes the Harlequin. But you can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs, as the saying goes. And victories are often small and hard-fought. And if you make even a slight change, well, that's more than most of us ever achieve.
This story, then, will make you smile at the end. It's not a downer like 1984, but (like that book) it will give you pause.
It is also beautifully written. I love the way that Ellison breaks the rules with wonderful run-on sentences. And the way that he punctuates those sentences often with quick, short, two-word follow-up sentences that are like staccato bursts.
I also love the way Ellison uses the jelly beans simply for the powerful image they convey. The fact that they raise some logical questions—such as where in the world would the Harlequin get so many jelly beans—is brushed aside with the following:
"That's another good question. More than likely it will never be answered to your complete satisfaction. But then, how many questions are?"
And I love the lengthy quote from Henry David Thoreau's "Civil Disobedience" which precedes the story. "That is the heart of it," Ellison writes. "Now begin in the middle, and later learn the beginning; the end will take care of itself."
It's pretty obvious that Ellison, himself, is probably a tardy fellow. It should come as no surprise, then, that Harlan and Harlequin sound a lot alike.
posted by Paulo at 12:44 PM
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